Drunk and in love
by Specter-Paulsen
Summary: This is what they do. They drink, and they ignore their problems. What happens when one of them breaks that pattern?


Donna was wasted and she knew it. She'd had eight cocktails and three shots of jäger, which she didn't even like much.

She'd had a fight with Harvey and he was out somewhere blowing off steam too. Eventually one of them would sneak into the apartment to find the other passed out in bed, and then they'd get up in the morning and continue on as normal. It had happened before and would almost certainly happen again. She was well aware that they needed better coping mechanisms but getting blackout drunk and then nursing hangovers together the next day seemed to be working for them so far, so why mess with a perfect recipe?

She knew it was time to go when she took a tequila shot and the room started spinning. She managed to unlock her phone and open her Uber app, thanking god for Face ID and that Home was programmed in and she only had to press one button, as merely looking at the screen was making her nauseous.

How she got into the car and then out of it again would be a mystery she'd never solve, as she found herself in front of her building, swaying on the spot as she tried to hunt for her keys in her bag.

"You're back." Harvey's voice interrupted her and she turned to face him as he stood unsteadily on the curb, having just climbed out of a cab.

"You're back," she echoed, squinting at him.

"This is new."

"I know." They both stood for a minute, just looking at each other, drunk and a little confused by this change to their usual pattern.

"What do we do now?" She asked eventually.

"Go inside, I guess?" He shrugged and she mimicked his action, following him on shaky legs into the foyer.

"Mr Specter, Ms Paulsen," the concierge greeted.

"Dougie," they responded in unison as Harvey pressed the button for the elevator and Donna swayed into him, letting his arm drape across her shoulders.

"Am I still mad at you?" She asked as she leaned into him.

"I don't think so."

"Oh. Good." She nodded and they stepped onto the elevator together.

The following morning they woke in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, both with furious hangovers. Harvey was still fully dressed, but Donna had at least managed to strip naked before tumbling into bed, her $3000 dress in a crumpled heap on the floor, her shoes discarded somewhere in the hall. She vaguely remembered dropping her bag onto the couch and padded out to the living room in search of her phone, which of course was completely dead. She took it back to the bedroom, plugging it in and setting it on her nightstand before falling back into bed next to her barely-conscious other half.

"Stop moving," he mumbled.

"Had to get my phone," she replied, her fingertips running over the creases in his forehead, feeling his face relax under her touch. She thanked god and the universe that it was Sunday and they had nowhere to be and nothing to do for the day, able to simply lie in bed, sleeping off the effects of the previous night's alcohol.

"You ok?" Harvey asked, reaching for her, pulling her into him. His voice was husky with sleep and she smiled at the sound.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"We're getting too old to drink like that."

"I know."

"You think we might need to find a better way to deal with our fights?"

"Donna, please. I'm barely conscious. Can we have this conversation later?" His head dropped onto her shoulder and he pressed his lips to her bare skin.

"Harvey, come on. This is serious."

"I'm extremely hungover, babe. _Please_ can we talk about this later." He wasn't questioning, he was instructing and it rubbed her up entirely the wrong way.

"No, we're going to talk about it now." She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, fixing him with a hard stare.

"For fucks sake." He sighed and sat up, wincing at the pounding in his head. "Can we at least eat something?"

"Harvey, stop it. Just talk to me."

"Why?" He was irritable and she knew she was poking the bear but she was set on it now and wasn't going to let him get out of it.

"Because we never talk. We fight, we drink and then we pretend it never happened. We never talk about anything real. We spent so long avoiding how we felt, and we're still doing it now!"

"What are you saying?" He was pinching the bridge of his nose and she rolled her eyes at his being so dramatic.

"I'm saying this isn't what I want."

"What?" She had his full attention now, his eyes wide. He looked frightened suddenly, and she felt her stomach clench. She couldn't tell if it was the hangover, the look on his face or a combination of the two, but she felt slightly nauseous.

"I love you, but I can't keep going like this. I feel less connected to you now than I did before we were… this."

"But it's working. We deal with shit in our own way, we get over it and we move on."

"But we _don't_ move on." She bit her lip, studying him. "Do you remember what our last three fights were about?"

"No, should I?"

"They were all about the same thing. You don't talk to me about anything real. We talk about work, or we joke around about a myriad of things, but we never talk about anything _real_. I can't live like this, not knowing what you're feeling."

"I've never needed to tell you, you've always known how I'm feeling better than I have."

"That's not the same thing!" She threw her hands up in the air, climbing out of bed and reaching for her bathrobe. "We can't keep going like this, Harvey. _I _can't keep going like this." She stood at the foot of the bed, studying him, and saw him crumple before her eyes.

"Donna, please." He stumbled out of bed and met her in the middle of the room. "Please don't leave me." He grabbed her hands, desperately, his face twisted in anguish and it cut through her, like a shard in her heart.

"I don't want to leave you," she told him shakily, tears forming in her eyes.

"Then don't. Come back to bed." He tugged on her hand and she shook her head, resisting.

"Not until we can figure this out."

"Please," he begged, anguish etched into every line on his face. He'd aged, she realised, and she hadn't been paying enough attention to see it happening.

It had been almost a year since he'd appeared at her door that night. The first few months had been a whirlwind; they couldn't get enough of one another, and combined with the unrest at the firm following Robert's departure, they had very little time to just _be_. By unspoken agreement, Harvey had all but moved into Donna's apartment and they no longer discussed where they'd spend the night.

But over the last three or four months, they'd fallen into patterns that were neither healthy nor helpful for their relationship. They were arguing more and more, sex was less frequent, and they were both drinking a lot. Something needed to change.

"This isn't working," she said softly, trying to hold back tears. "I know you love me, but it's not enough."

"Tell me what I need to do."

"I don't know. I need to think."

He watched her for a moment and she bit her lip, trying to choose her next words carefully. Then he saved her from uttering them. "You want me to go," he said hollowly. She knew what he was feeling, it was the same empty pit that her insides had turned into as well. She choked back a sob and hesitated for a moment before nodding.

He slipped his shoes back on silently, still in the crumpled suit he'd slept in. Before he left he pulled her to him and held her tight, kissing the top of her head and then her lips, a whispered _I love you_ hanging between them as he walked out the door.

She collapsed onto the couch and cried. Still in her bathrobe, the previous night's alcohol oozing from her pores, she sobbed hard, loudly, letting out every hurt and frustration she'd been holding onto.

When she moved back to her bed later that morning, she cried until she fell into a fitful sleep for two hours, waking to her head pounding; from the alcohol or the crying she wasn't sure. She moved to the bathroom, running water into the bathtub, adding eucalyptus scented bubbles for relaxation. Tendrils of steam rose from the surface as she forced herself to sink into the too-hot water, scalding her skin so she had to grit her teeth to force herself to stay in the tub.

As she became accustomed to the temperature, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, she leaned back against the porcelain, her gaze landing on Harvey's shower gel on the shelf. She wondered what he was doing. She'd broken him, but he hadn't yelled or fought, he'd accepted what she wanted and he'd left. The look on his face was burned into her mind and she couldn't un-see it.

Thirteen years of not being together stacked against one year together and she ran the time over in her head; the aguish, heartache, hurt and anger, but also the joy and love and elation he brought to her life. She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe, the hot water and the steam causing her chest to tighten as she fought for breath. She climbed hastily out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself, padding out to the living room, droplets of water still running down her calves, beading on her shoulders and sliding down her back as she threw open the window and gulped in a lungful of cold air.

She thought back to drinks with Samantha and Katrina, a week after she and Harvey had finally taken that plunge.

"I am not telling you those details," she'd chuckled as Samantha had sat forward eagerly following Katrina's question; "so how is he?"

"Come on, Donna. Share with us!"

"No. Absolutely not." She'd sipped her wine to hide the wide smile that was threatening to split her face in two.

"We don't need you tell us," Samantha had said then, "you've been strutting around the office like the cat who ate the canary all week. I think we know how good he is."

"You'll never know for sure," Donna retorted, an unexpected wave of possessiveness washing over her. Samantha chuckled.

"I'm not about to try and take him from you, Donna. I have no interest in your man."

"Even though he's clearly the best sex you've ever had," Katrina chimes in, "I haven't seen you look this relaxed since I've known you."

And she was right. But it wasn't just the mind-blowing, toe-curling, back-to-back orgasmic sex that had changed her. It was the pure, unadulterated joy she felt from finally acknowledging and accepting that she loved Harvey. And that he loved her back.

"Fine," she'd acquiesced, "he's the best I've ever had. But it's not just that. I love him." She sipped her wine again and shrugged. "I've never loved anyone like I love him."

"I'm happy for you, Donna," Katrina had said, raising her glass in a toast. Samantha had joined in and they'd tapped their glasses together.

She found herself smiling at the memory, but it wasn't the time with her friends that was important, but the way she'd felt about Harvey then. Did she still feel like that?

Mulling over that thought, she stepped back from the window, padding back to her bedroom, drying herself off fully and pulling pyjamas on. After throwing the towel in the laundry basket she made her way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring at its contents. Eggs, ham, leftover Vietnamese, blueberries, ricotta and two questionable lemons. She needed groceries. She slammed the fridge door in frustration. She could make eggs but she knew they wouldn't as good as Harvey's. They never were.

She sighed. She wasn't hungry anyway. She opened the freezer, praying there was ice cream in there somewhere. Pushing aside lasagne and frozen vegetables she spotted a Ben and Jerry's tub in the far corner and extracted it carefully, cursing when she realised it wasn't Chunky Monkey. Oh well, peanut butter cup would have to do. She switched on the coffee maker, spooning the ice cream into a bowl while she waited for the machine to heat up. She topped off the bowl with fudge sauce and crumbled some graham crackers over the top. Coffee made and her bowl full, she settled onto the couch, pulled a blanket over her knees and called Rachel.

"Harvey and I had a fight. It's bad," she said as soon as her friend answered. And then she burst into tears again.

"Oh, sweetie, what happened?"

"I — I messed up, Rach. I pushed him and he wasn't —" she tried to catch her breath against the strength of the sobs welling inside of her.

"Okay, just breathe, Don, okay? Deep breath in," Rachel instructed. Donna obeyed, taking a shaky breath inward. "Now let it out slowly, okay?"

With Rachel coaching her breathing she calmed down eventually, her breathing slowing back to normal and her sobs subsiding until they were just a light hiccup every now and then.

"You okay?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," she replied sheepishly.

"Don't apologise. Just tell me what happened."

"I pushed Harvey to talk. He didn't want to and I—" she gulped in another breath.

"You what?"

"I told him I wasn't sure this was working anymore."

"Really?" Rachel's gasp travelled through the phoneline and Donna winced.

"I know, I'm a horrible person."

"I wasn't thinking that. I'm just surprised. Everything seemed to be perfect when we saw you last month."

"I know." She put a hand over her eyes in shame. "But I realised we never talk about anything real. We talk about work, we joke around, we discuss what to cook for dinner and who is going to get groceries. He never tells me how he feels."

Rachel was silent for a moment and Donna took the opportunity to shovel some more ice cream into her mouth, washing it down with coffee, the flavours blending and the heat from the coffee melting the ice cream.

"Donna… I don't know the right way exactly to phrase this," Rachel began tentatively.

"What, Rach? Just say it." She was apprehensive, waiting for her friend to tell her what a horrible person she was being.

"That's what a relationship is, sweetie."

"But I don't know how he feels about anything."

"Okay, let's look at this a different way." Rachel said gently. "Does he love you?"

"Yes! Of course."

"Does he tell you that?"

"Yes."

"Then I say this with love, but I think your problems are all in your head." Rachel took a breath and Donna tried to fight a wave of annoyance. Her problems were real. How could her best friend not see that? "Hear me out, Donna."

"Rach, you don't get it."

"I do get it. I promise you, I do. Just listen for a second, okay? Harvey loves you. And more than that, he respects you. You're everything to him. Maybe he doesn't tell you how he feels because he doesn't have anything to tell! He's happy, Donna. He's happy with _you_. And I thought you were happy with him too."

"I am."

"Then you don't have a problem. He loves you, and you love him. It's that simple. Whatever else is going on, that is the most important thing."

"I— you're right," Donna said in wonder. "How could I have been so stupid?" She threw the blanket off and got up from the couch. "Rach, I have to go. Thank you!" She ended the call, running to the bedroom and changing into jeans and a sweater, shoving her feet into ballet flats and pulling her jacket from the closet. She was out the door without a second thought, nothing but her keys and her phone in her hand, the Uber she'd ordered only two minutes away.

When she reached Harvey's building, she raced through the lobby to the disapproval of the new doorman, a man she hadn't yet got to know since they'd been living mostly at her place. She heard him call after her to slow down as she got on the elevator, hitting the button for the penthouse and tapping her foot impatiently as the car ascended to the eighteenth floor.

She knocked seven times, breathing hard as she waited for him to open the door. When he did, he stared at her for a moment, and they held a conversation with their eyes. Seeing the relief on his face spurred her into action.

She launched herself at him, fusing her lips to his, one arm thrown around his neck, the other on the back of his head, holding him to her, pouring everything she had into him. He pulled away for a second and their eyes locked. She realised how similar this was to the first time, 11 months earlier. Everything crashed into her then, and she felt it like a punch to her solar plexus. She'd almost messed up the best thing in her life.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and he shook his head.

"Don't. It's okay. I'll be better, I promise. I'll talk to you more."

"Talk later," she said, still holding his face. "Right now, I just want to love you."

He kissed her deeply, reaching an arm over her shoulder to push the door closed before leading her by the hand to his bedroom.

They made love desperately, all wet kisses and grasping hands, greedy for one another.

And when it was over she curled into his side, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the tears that wanted to fall.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby," Harvey said softly. The rare use of the term of endearment caused her stomach to clench and a tear escaped her.

"It wasn't you. Please don't apologise. You're perfect. It was me - it was my fault." She choked on a sob.

"No, you were right. I don't talk to you enough. I need to make more of an effort."

"No! No, you don't. Harvey, I'm so sorry I made you think that. You don't need to do a single thing different." She sat up, crossing her legs lotus-style, reaching for his hand, holding it in both of hers. "I love you so much. I think I… I think I was imagining problems where they weren't any because I'm not used to this. I'm not used to loving someone so completely, and maybe I've just been waiting for it to fall apart." She looked down at her hands, toying with his fingers nervously.

"I'm not going anywhere. Donna, I love you more than anything in the world." He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, softly touching the strands, running them through his fingers. "I'm not perfect at this either and I'm as surprised as you that I haven't done anything to majorly screw us up before now."

"That's not what I—"

"I know," he said hastily. "I know that's not what you were saying. But you wanted to know how I feel. That's how I feel. Shocked. Every morning when I wake up and you're still there, I'm shocked that I haven't messed it up yet. But maybe, just maybe, we haven't messed it up because this is it. Maybe it can't be messed up, because this is exactly where we should be."

"Holy shit, when did you get so emotionally mature?" Donna joked, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Blame Lipschitz." Harvey shrugged.

"I'll be sure to thank him when I see him."

"When will you ever—"

"It's a figure of speech." She rolled her eyes in jest and then shifted position, settling against him, his arms draped comfortingly around her. "I'm sorry I pushed you away like that."

"It's okay, really." He pressed his lips to her temple. "I love you, Donna Paulsen. It's going to take a lot more than one fight to get rid of me."

"Good," she said, stroking shapes on his forearm with her fingertips. "Because I never want to lose you. You're it for me. My one and done."

"Guess you're a bit of a sap, huh?" Harvey teased.

"You better believe it, Specter. Welcome to the rest of your life."


End file.
